Where He Ended Up
by M0nk3ysRUs
Summary: AU Brittana. Faberry-ish. Artie's POV. Artie Abrams knew his marriage was a sham, but he never thought he'd be seeing this. Rated for mature language and implied girl!peen.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or their affiliates. If I did, things would be very different. Words below are belong to my bacon-addled brain. There also may have been foot long Pixie Stix involved. Enjoy.

Where He Ended Up

Artie Abrams knew his marriage was a sham. He wore saddle shoes on legs that didn't work, and the accident that had taken away his ability to walk had also taken away his ability to have children. Brittany Pierce was the best dancer LA had ever known, and volunteered at a children's hospital whenever she found time.

Brittany had served the divorce papers 6 months ago, but they'd stopped having sex for almost as long as they'd been married. Artie Abrams was sometimes a sexist asshole, but that didn't mean he was stupid; yet he was sitting here, like an idiot, watching (well, eavesdropping and peeping, rather, through the keyhole) as his soon-to-be-ex-wife got the ever living shit fucked out of her by Santana Lopez. And Santana Lopez was the CEO of that (fuck, he'd admit it) delicious coffee company, their neighbor for the past 3 years (again, as long as they'd been married) and the bitch with the biggest dick in the county, if any of the girls at work were any indication). But Santana Lopez was a bitch, and she had been plowing his legal (but not for long) wife for the past 2 hours (but then again they had probably been screwing like bunnies for longer since that harlot Andrea Cohen complained that she hadn't seen or touched that humongous trouser snake of Santana's in 2 years).

Artie Abrams was about to ram through the door (or at least, knock into it really hard, there were some perks to having been used as a battering ram on the worst high school football team in the country) and break up this little fuck marathon if he hadn't noticed that the hotel waste basket outside their hotel room had a pregnancy test tossed inside it. It was positive. And still, as he readied himself to knock that door down (or again, at least hit it very hard with his unfeeling legs) the noises in the room seemed to settle down, and he heard a small, heartfelt 'I love you' from the mouth of Satan herself, followed by a rustling of sheets and a return 'I love so much' from his Brittany. Artie Abrams contemplated his choices: he could be the angry, wronged husband who busted his (technically) wife cheating and they'd hate each other (well, she was Brittany, she'd never hate him, and he'd hate himself) or he could finally man the fuck up, sign the divorce papers, and roll away knowing that he'd given her up to something so much better. Artie sat there for a good 5 minutes before rolling quietly down the hallway and calling that Asian chick from work to see if she would help him move out.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Again, Glee belongs to RM and Fox. I own nothing.

Author's Note: I felt like the last drabble really wasn't quite... finished. Since I did the drabble with Artie's situation already, I continued with Brittany. Maybe I'll do Santana's too. These drabbles were not meant to spell out a detailed story, but if anyone wants to turn it into one feel free. Also, I cannot write smut, so again, if you want to flesh out that part, feel free. Enjoy.

Brittany Pierce Wasn't Stupid

Sometimes people called her stupid, but after three years Brittany Susan Pierce knew her marriage was not really a marriage. First of all they didn't really have sex. And she still wanted to be called Brittany more than Mrs. Abrams. Or worse, ma'am, because that was what she used to call the always cranky old neighbor lady who smelled like boiled cabbage. And second of all she didn't truly love Artie Abrams.

Artie asked to marry her in college and she said yes, because he talked about feelings and didn't yell at her when she told him she thought he was a robot, or that dolphins were gay sharks. And he said he loved her. Brittany Pierce didn't really know if she was IN love with him, because that was something she had never really known, but she did love him in a way even if his legs didn't work and he wore small ugly shoes (even though his feet didn't work either, and he had lots of shoes) and talked to her real slow sometimes. Like that time he thought she didn't understand the basic concepts of molecular chemistry, but really, she aced that class and was just really fascinated by the spinach caught in his teeth. They didn't have spinach for lunch that day.

They got married a year later and moved into a new house. The sex stopped right about then, because Artie went to a weird doctor who said he couldn't have kids and he locked himself in his work den a lot. In some ways Brittany had been relieved, because her career had just taken off and even though she loved babies, there was always an 'off' feeling when he mentioned children. Maybe this world tour with Beyonce would give them some time apart to miss each other and think about what they wanted, because Artie was kind of cranky all the time now. He totally stopped feeding Lord Tubbington, even when Brittany said he was allowed to eat cheese because he was on Atkins. Good think Charity would be there to sneak him food when she was away on tour. And she would take her diary, so Charity won't be able to update her cat gossip blog with her thoughts (honestly, Brittany couldn't turn on the computer only because she cat-proofed the thing and couldn't remember how to un-cat-proof it).

Months later, when internationally reknown backup dancer Brittany Pierce came back from South America, the Victorian home next to theirs was occupied. She tried to ask Artie about it, but he was too busy testing out some new video game for work. She tried to ask Charity about it, but every time she mentioned the new neighbor the cat would just purr and blush (cats didn't really blush, but Charity totally did), and Lord Tubbington was trying to lose weight so he can get Charity to pay attention to him again (Brittany totally saw him trying to do pull ups on a drawer handle).

Even though the gossip monger cats weren't able to tell her anything, Brittany Pierce met her neighbor, who was out jogging as the blonde was taking out the trash. Santana Lopez was wearing a baseball cap, cross trainers, a tank top, and shorts when she stopped mid jog and sprinted over to say hi to her. Brittany saw that she didn't have any makeup on, but that woman was so goddamn sexy she might or might not have dropped the garbage bag on Charity (who had coincidentally followed her outside and stared creepily at her neighbor for 5 straight minutes). They chatted for a little bit, Brittany welcomed her to the neighborhood, and the Latina petted her pussy (that damn cat was in heat for a week after) before making her way into the house.

As it turned out, Santana Lopez was a successful entrepreneur who owned that new chain of coffee shops popping up all over the country, was an avid reader, had a razor sharp wit, was funny as hell, and was fucking perfect. And, Brittany would soon find out, had a dick the size of California. She didn't believe the girls at work at first, but given how many women were slobbering all over Santana at the block party last week over that enormous bulge in her pants, Brittany knew the Latina also had a confidence the size of California to go along with that dick. 'Cause seriously? She was a woman, with the junk, but other women loved that. Swag.

Brittany would find out how big that dick really was when, after an argument with Artie, she had come to the small pond in Westerly Park to feed the ducks and Santana appeared. The dark haired woman had sat down next to her, helped her feed the ducks, and held her as she cried. Her deepest secrets (even ones that her cats didn't know) spilled forth. Santana said nothing the whole time. The duck feeding became a weekly thing, and one night Santana brought her to her house after a thunderstorm drove them out of the park.

Brittany sat on Santana's plush leather couch, cradling a cup of hot chocolate (she giddily smiled when Santana had asked if she liked marshmallows) with a throw blanket wrapped over her shoulders after a warm shower. Then her hostess walked into the living room, hair wet and eyes smiling kindly at her, and before her brain even registered it, the blonde had stood up and kissed her, lips and tongues and teeth colliding. Twenty minutes later their clothes were scattered all over the living room, Santana pounding her into oblivion on the couch. Three hours later they were still at it, this time upstairs in the master bedroom. Brittany stayed the night, and they started going at it again in the morning. They called in sick at work (technically, Brittany really was sick, because she couldn't walk right after getting dicked like that for 6 hours much less dance).

There was surprisingly no guilt for their affair. Santana was not tied down to anyone, Brittany was sure, and Santana knew about Brittany's personal life. Months into their affair, Santana was the first one to say 'I love you.' Brittany did not hesitate to reply that she loved her too. She served Artie the divorce papers the next day. He stared at them sullenly for a good hour before retreating angrily to his work den (he rolled over Charity's tail along the way and pissed her right the fuck off; thank god he couldn't feel the scratches on his legs).

The guilt came when they realized that Brittany was pregnant, but only because they had created something beautiful that Artie would never be able to. There was no denying who's child it was. Santana proposed the next day, and the rock that she proposed with looked like it would do heavy damage in a bitch fight. Artie signed the divorce papers three weeks later. Brittany Pierce stood in front of him, eyes downcast, hand on her burgeoning belly, and told him she was sorry for not telling him sooner that she didn't love him in the way he wanted her to. He only nodded, and looked to the person her other hand was linked to. Santana Lopez softened her death glare to mid-level (which was saying a lot, because the Lopez Laser Glare of Doom had been taught to her by the legendary general Sue Sylvester, the woman who single-handedly ended the war in Iraq with pure, unadulterated rage alone) and Artie Abrams knew her eyes wanted to thank him. Artie softly broke her gaze and rolled out of the office. Brittany Pierce (soon to be Lopez) knew he wasn't ready to let it all go yet, but she knew he had swallowed his pride to let her have true love, and that was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All things Glee = Not mine. Trademarks names also not mine. But this drabble is.

Author's Note: Part IIIa of the Brittana affair in Santana's POV. And thank ya'll for the kind reviews, very appreciated. There will be a Part IIIb to continue Santana's POV. There might be a Part IV in Charity's POV, but we'll see if I can buy enough Red Bull and Pixie Stix to get through that crackiness. Read and review, yo. Enjoy.

The Epic of Santana Lopez

Santana Lopez did not expect to end up this happy. Content, maybe, or satisfied with life, but not THIS happy. But Brittany S. Pierce (not ever to be confused with the crazy that was, is, and will probably always be 'pictures-of-my-derriere' Britney Spears) happened and her pathway to becoming a rich, powerful, miserable dictator of the coffee business went down the drain. Ah well, two outta three ain't bad. Happiness felt motherfucking awesome, really.

Not like Santana Lopez was born unhappy. No, she was just born a bitch. And had a huge dick. What did Mami recall the doctor saying when she was born? Something about making some woman very, very happy one day, but that was before baby Santana drop kicked his bald ass head for trying to swaddle her wrong. She was pretty badass since Day Number Wah.

Marcus and Carmen Lopez thought she was a boy until she was two weeks old, but that didn't make them love her any less. Didn't surprise anybody, since Papi was a liberal minded geneticist and Mami taught gender and sociology at NYU, but shit got awkward when puberty hit and she grew a set of rambunctious knockers in her ribcage. That and Santana's dick grew like four inches overnight. Erections were another thing to worry about, but they had special underwear made and she had a horrifically embarrassing conversation with Papi about sperm, condoms, women, and, wait for it, beating one off. Like that shit would help with having to watch Stacy McKeller and her long, long legs in the locker room at Cheerios practice.

And Cheerios was another one of those things Santana Lopez needed in her never ending quest for high school dominance. Sue Sylvester, former four start general for the United States Army, lion trainer, award winning cheerleading coach, and owner of a pet missile tank, demanded military excellence from everyone on the squad, and only she and Quinn Fabray made the squad freshman year. They were the only ones to make it out of Iraq combat training without a complete psychological breakdown.

Santana Lopez had a strange relationship with Quinn Fabray. They didn't exactly hate each other, but there was enough friction between them to turn William McKinley High School into the next Chernobyl. So it was surprising when she had pure, virginal, Jesus-loving Quinn Fabray naked and pressed up against the Cheerios locker room rutting back against her cock. Not that she minded, cause this was fucking hot. In a sick way, they both needed this, 'cause Finn Hudson's pathetic dick and his general ape-like body had the sexual competence of a table lamp, and Santana got orgasms that didn't come from her own hand or some drunken bimbo's mouth (which only happened once at one of Puckerman's house parties; Stacy McKeller could never look her in the eye again without turning into a tomato).

She and Quinn hooked up pretty often and exclusively in high school, up until that pregnancy scare junior year, but then Quinn started going after the Glee club midget Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez let loose. The fact that she had gotten into the Virgin Queen's panties had spread like wildfire all over the school (thanks to the annoying little piece of plankton known as Jewfro, but he had his uses) and suddenly it didn't matter that she was a girl with a dick (not that it mattered before either, since being part of Sue's Cheerios was like being Death Eaters under Voldemort). It only mattered that she knew how to use that dick, and boy did she know how. Puckerman was the only one who slept with more girls than her all through high school, but he was a man whore and she actually had standards. Last she heard Puck was still mooning over that orca Zizes on the high school wrestling team.

College was even better. The stereotype that Yale students were nerds and sexless was completely wrong, cause some of these girls were serious freaks in bed and the guys that she made friends with were freakin' gay. Santana had only fucked two of them, but it wasn't that great 'cause Kurt and Blaine seemed to be more into each other.

Anyway, she graduated with a degree in business and went into working with different coffee companies before deciding to start her own. Two years into it, Santana Lopez was motherfucking CEO of _El Barrio Latino_ and had expanded her franchise (a hit in South America thanks to several blends of South American home grown beans) in the United States. Forbes measured her net worth at 2 billion after Starbucks went bankrupt when the CEO was caught with a high class prostitute bouncing on his lap thanks to an 'anonymous caller.' Didn't help that the pro was male. The New York Stock Exchange erupted the next day.

By age 27 Santana Lopez was on top of the world. She was rich, powerful, and fucked a lot of attractive women. Then Santana went back to her high school reunion in fucking Podunktown, Nowheresville (okay fine, Lima, Ohio) and saw Quinn Fabray-Berry with her hobbit wife and two disgustingly adorable children, and she felt the first pangs of an unidentified feeling around her heart. Even Puckerman had settled down with his behemoth of a wife (not that Puck looked any better, boy piled on the pounds in college; she was sure their child would look like the Michelin baby).

It was pure coincidence that she met her blonde neighbor a month after moving from New York to LA, but she suspected that God finally decided to give her some slack after she peed in the holy water basin in church at 10 years old.

Santana Motherfucking Lopez, the woman who had gone 12 for 12 with the models of the 2012 Pirelli calendar, felt like she had been hit by a freight train when she first laid eyes on Brittany Pierce. This woman would be her wife. Brittany Susan Pierce would bear her children, or no one else, and no one ever.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to RM and Fox.

Author's Note: Thanks for all your kind words, reviewers! They are much appreciated. Would have updated yesterday but I gots to work and make some money, ya'll. Here's Part IIIb of Santana's viewpoint. I've got different little scenarios in my head for future drabbles but I don't really know when inspiration with strike so, again, we'll see. Enjoy.

When Brittany Pierce Happened to Santana Lopez

It wasn't like Santana Lopez didn't have other women to, well, fuck, as misogynistic as it sounded. Andrea Cohen, that gold-digging whore, had been trying to mount her again ever since that welcoming party in May where the bitch slipped roofies in her drink and she woke up with 3 women and a sore dick. But that was besides the point.

Santana Lopez did not fall in love. It was not in the contract when she signed her soul over to the devil (well, she signed it over and then double-crossed the devil, cause shit, she was Sue Sylvester's best and biggest badass; the devil was a whiny bitch). But looking at Brittany Pierce, with her gold-spun hair and robins egg eyes (damnit, the woman had her spouting poetry) and Santana Lopez knew she had to make this woman hers. Fuck the other women in the world (technically, Santana Lopez had sort of already done that), she wanted Brittany Pierce forever, and no one else.

It was usually easy to get what she wanted, too. She was hot and rich. But his was different; this was love. Santana had only really loved her parents, in that parental kind of way. Maybe even Quinn Fabray, in that fucked up hate/love, _Mean Girls_ subtext kind of way. Even Puckerman a little bit, but the high school version where they wreaked havoc on the student body like nobody's business (now he was a car salesman and ate at Friday's with his wife every, well, Friday). She was content with living her hedonistic little life. But then Brittany Fucking Pierce happened and her world view got fucked to hell. Because Brittany Pierce made her want weddings and honeymoons in Hawaii and pancake breakfasts and adorable yet snarky children with big brown eyes and soft, corn-silk hair (seriously, this poetry shit has got to stop).

The problem was that Brittany was married. To a cripple. In a wheelchair. Not to be mean, but... wait, no, she'd fucking say it: What the fuck was a crippled loser in a wheelchair doing being married to the best dancer in LA? It's not like they were having sex (oh, the walls between those two houses were paper thin) and even if they did, it couldn't have been satisfying 'cause the dude, probably already emasculated by his disability, would just lay there like a dead fish. And Brittany, Brittany was so goddamn vibrant and happy and beautiful and, well, _mobile_.

They first met when Santana was out for a jog around the neighborhood and the blonde was taking out the trash. Santana usually avoided going out this early because: one, it was fucking early, and two, the skinnier cat always wandered out from the house and tried to follow her home. But not even the cat was going to deter her from pretty much sprinting like a stealthy cheetah over to say hi to Brittany. She might have leaped over a hedge or two. They chatted for a bit (god, Brittany's voice was made for calling out her name during sex), and she got invited to a block party the next week.

And she went to that block party, only to get her junk fondled by some the rather forward young women on the block (and yea, some of them were definitely married). The only married woman who she wanted fondling her junk mingled with some other guests and miserably stood by her geek husband (what the fuck was his name again? Arly? Harley?), who was talking some other nerd's ear off about fucking Halo. It wasn't that she completely hated the guy, but he was married to Brittany, who seemed to be unhappy in said marriage. Anyone with eyes could see that, but then again the cripple wore glasses thicker than a Coke bottle. It would be sooooo damn easy to roll him off a cliff and call it an accident, but no, she wanted Brittany to come to her with a free will and a free conscience. It had to be her choice.

So Santana waited. She stopped fucking around (which was really hard, literally) and got to know Brittany. She knew Brittany Pierce said random, wacky things, which, if it were coming from someone else's mouth, would earn them a hard smack. But it was adorable whenever the blonde said anything, really. Brittany loved small animals, doted on her two cats, danced more magnificently than Nijinsky himself, hated being compared to Britney Spears, didn't drink coffee but loved hot chocolate, was a Goldfish fiend, and fed the ducks at Westerly Park every Tuesday.

It was at Westerly Park that they struck up a true friendship. Brittany, in tears after arguing yet again with Artie (she finally got the cripple's name right), spilled everything, and Santana only sat there and held her. They fed the ducks together, and Santana brought her orange juice or hot chocolate every time they met. Brittany Pierce made her laugh like she didn't have a care in the world, and Santana Lopez gave Brittany a reason to smile until her cheeks hurt.

They finally acted on the passion simmering underneath their friendship one stormy night. It was after a typical day at the park and they ended up at Santana's house to hide out from the rain that Brittany jumped her bones (not that Santana minded). All those months of pent up sexual frustration didn't go to waste because Santana made love to Brittany for 6 fucking hours. She woke up with her head buried in vanilla blonde hair and Brittany still wrapped around her cock. They spent the day in bed, only venturing outside for food and water. They were in love.

Santana didn't have the nerve to say the actual words until a couple months into their affair, but when she did it was well worth it. There was no hesitation in Brittany's voice when she said it back, and she gave Artie the divorce papers the next day. They waited two weeks, but he signed nothing. Santana was tempted to run over with a bat, knock him unconscious, and torture him using Sue Sylvester's infamous interrogation techniques (made famous when the kid who spiked the punch at senior prom got caught and came back to school with one leg shorter than the other), but Brittany would be pissed and she didn't want that.

She was even more tempted to force that punk ass cripple to hand over the signed documents when they found out Brittany was pregnant. Santana, though having abandoned the Catholic faith in her youth, refused to let her child be born out of wedlock. She used all her connections to call Cartier and had them make and ship a custom engagement ring in 24 hours; Brittany cried as she said yes when Santana dropped to one knee and proposed in the middle of Westerly Park.

The problem with Artie was resolved when he called them (well, he called Brittany, Santana had left enough threatening messages that he'd be scared of her for life) and resignedly handed over the divorce papers. It was finalized a week later (thanks to several connections Santana had with the city council). Brittany almost drove herself crazy planning the wedding until Santana got worried and called in the most anal retentive person she knew to help: Rachel Fabray-Berry. Brittany and Rachel hit it off almost immediately (the Latina would halfheartedly regret this for years to come), and Santana Lopez owed Quinn Fabray-Berry a new car (Rachel was pregnant with baby number three and Santana needed as much help as she could in dealing with the crazy preggos). Quinn demanded a Porsche; Santana got her a mini-van. Rachel approved.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Only in my dreams does Glee belong to me.

Author's Note: Hey all, sorry for the super late update, but my internet has been wonky all fucking week. It's actually still not restored and I have been leeching off my neighbor's wireless (with his consent) this weekend. Comcast, if you ever read this, you can suck my giant, non-existent dick. Anyways, I hadn't been planning to extend this story, but I had time to kill since my internet went out, so read and review, ya'll. Will update soon with Charity the cat's POV.

When Brittany Pierce Married Santana Lopez

Santana Lopez had never planned to have kids. Sure, Grandma Lopez had been nagging her for great-grandchildren ever since she graduated high school, but the 'rents decided they didn't want cocky and sarcastic 18-year-old Santana knocking anyone up (thank God no one else knew about that pregnancy scare with Quinn Fabray junior year; Quinn had threatened to castrate her and well, that was the end of their sexual arrangements). She got hauled into a safe sex conversation at 16 when Papi walked in on Jessica Weinstein giving her a blowjob (she'd stupidly left the door unlocked); it resulted in about a hundred bucks worth of condoms thrown in her face from the Lopez patriarch and some pornos from her cousin Carlos when he heard about it at the family dinner. Carlos still winces and covers his crotch whenever she flies over to New York for their annual family dinner.

But here she was, 29 years old and about to expect a baby with Brittany Lopez (nee Pierce), and not regretting a damn thing. Grandma Lopez about had a conniption when she sent wedding invitations, and the old coot and her Mami flew right over to LA the same day, busted down her front door, and beganto berate her in a violent tirade of Spanish not heard since the Inquisition. Then Brittany came downstairs from her nap, constantly tired now from the human with half Santana's DNA developing in her uterus, and all hell broke loose. Well, not at Brittany, but the second the Lopez matriarchs laid eyes on Brittany Pierce and her baby bump, they each grabbed Santana by an ear and dragged her into the kitchen, spouting more Spanish threats the entire way. They only let go of her ears once Brittany had calmly walked in and managed to not only smooth things out with the Lopez mothers but completely and utterly charmed them as well. Carmen Lopez sat on the couch with a hand over Brittany's baby bump, cooing softly and sharing stories about how fetus Santana would drop kick her in the ribs at the most inconvenient of times, and Grandma Lopez dragged over Santana's baby book (why the woman brought that over would befuddle the Latina for years; how she fit that monstrous tome into her handbag was another story). Brittany would aww and ooh and point excitedly at several random pictures, rubbing absentmindedly at her belly as her eyes sought out Santana's on the other end of the couch. Grandma Lopez and Mami Lopez took one look at those adoring eyes and knew Santana Lopez had gotten really damn lucky.

The wedding news had spread faster than Schwarzenegger's family scandal. Santana and Brittany had wanted to keep it a quiet affair, with friends and family, but Rachel Fabray-Berry, diva and loud-mouth extraordinaire, dropped the news to her equally loud-mouthed, gossip monger friends (ok fine, they were sort of Santana's friends too, not that she'd say that shit out loud), designers Kurt Hummel-Anderson and Mercedes Evans. They convinced Brittany to let them make her the perfect wedding dress (with control top for the tiny but noticeable baby bump), which meant they had to be invited to the wedding. At least the misters Hummel-Anderson and Evans would be there to balance out the crazy (also, Brittany liked Kurt and Mercedes, because Brittany liked everybody; otherwise Santana would have dropped a trail of tater tots and designer scarves leading straight off a cliff so fucking Humsel and Grecedes would leave her baby the fuck alone).

But the wedding really had gotten out of control. Santana had a horde of relatives flown in from all over the US, not to mention Puerto Rico (she was the only child of the youngest children on both sides of the family and the only girl – sort of – born into her father's side in five generations; shit got done for Santana Lopez or else Grandma Lopez would whack everyone in arms reach with a wooden spoon). Brittany's parents were flown in from Holland along with her younger sister Lila (studying at Harvard), four aunts (surprisingly all widowed), and 12 cousins (the whole blonde haired, blue-eyed lot of them). Brittany's parents were exactly as Santana expected them to be (mellow, calm, and probably former hippies; she saw Brittany's father Sven wiggle a bag of Dutch weed at her Papi and they got along swimmingly), but Lila Pierce was not what she expect. Lila looked like Brittany, but the younger Pierce was quiet, extraordinarily intelligent, and clumsy as Brittany was graceful. The only qualities she shared with her older sister were the ways they looked and how much they adored each other.

Lila Pierce was also scary as shit, because she and Sven cornered her one morning and told her that if she hurt Brittany or their future child, her body would never be found. And Santana believed it because Lila had also told her that she had won every hunting competition in Holland since she was 14, and that sweet, laid-back Sven owned a total of 14 hunting rifles and a shotgun. Santana had gulped, nodded, and, in no uncertain terms, replied that if she ever hurt Brittany, or god forbid, their baby, she wouldn't even bother hiding from them; they had first dibs. Sven and Lila approved.

When the wedding day actually came, about a hundred paparazzi had camped outside the gated, newly acquired Lopez-Pierce mansion waiting for a glimpse of the young CEO and her dancer bride. Brittany, being the most sought-after dancer and choreographer in the LA scene and known for her work with various pop acts, had made quite a name for herself in the entertainment world. The paps loved her for being sweet and cheerful. Santana Lopez also had a sizable reputation in the media as People magazine's Most Eligible Bachelorette for three years straight, not to mention the various rumors about her hookups with some of the biggest names in modeling (she was drunk during that Maxim interview and her PR people weren't there to help her shut her mouth) and her financial success as one of the youngest billionaires in the world (and the sexiest, that fucker Mark Zuckerberg never even stood a chance; fuck Facebook). The world was baffled at how quickly it had taken them to fall in love (because thanks to Brittany's PR, she and Artie had apparently split amicably) and even quicker to conceive.

But no one lucky enough to attend the wedding inside doubted the love Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez had for each other. They could see it in their eyes, feel it in the air; it sparkled and shone as Brittany, resplendent in her ivory lace gown, walked down the aisle with her father towards an equally beautiful Santana, clad in her own cream-colored gown at the garden altar (Hummel snorted when she said she wanted to wear white. Santana almost pulled out a steak knife and stabbed him in the nuts, then remembered that she owed him big time for altering the dress to hide her junk).

Beneath the trellis lined with yellow tulips, red roses, and white lilies, Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce promised their faith, their love, their fidelity, their everything to each other. Mamas Lopez and Pierce sniffled audibly, and even Marcus and Sven's eyes misted over. Rachel, beset by her pregnancy hormones, bawled loudly and had to be embarrassingly consoled by maid-of-honor Quinn. Kurt, not beset by hormones of any kind, also bawled loudly enough to add to Rachel's orchestral sobbing as Blaine tried to calm him and Mercedes scooted a couple seats down, head shaking the entire way. Brittany and Santana Lopez could care less, the crowd around them whooped and hollered, raucous Spanish and Dutch yelled left and right, rice being thrown (only for a couple minutes before the kids got reprimanded by Grandma Lopez and her wooden spoon for wasting food), and pictures were taken. The picture of Santana and Brittany holding each other softly, eyes twinkling so brightly as they danced the traditional first dance, would sit atop their fireplace for years to come.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: What's this? Glee? Mine? Of course not. When pigs fly.

Author's Note: Though I promised Charity's POV, I wanted to present this chapter first. I've decided that Charity and Lord Tubbington will be better incorporated into the next chapter. Also, my internet is still not on. I love my neighbor, and Comcast can suck it sooooo hard. I have a couple more chapters in mind, and several outtakes, but alas, much of my drabbles are written spontaneously and thus are not really planned out, so you all will have to be patient with me. I've been asked about writing actual dialogue, but I'm wary because it might take away from the tone of the story. I'll think about it. Anyway, so humbled by your reviews (keep responding!), so enjoy. Also, I am in love with parentheses.

Santana Lopez: Bitch, Badass, and Whipped Like No Other

Santana Lopez had always taken pride in her badassery. CEO Santana was cunning. Cheerio Santana was ruthless. Friend Santana was bitchy yet well-meaning (not that she'd admit that). Daughter Santana was playful and snarky. Married Santana, however, was whipped as fuck.

Suffice to say, Santana Lopez did not look, act, or feel badass when Brittany's water broke at 2 AM in the fucking morning. Badass Santana turned into a simpering, helpless fool (she would never make fun of Quinn again for slipping on her own wife's amniotic fluid and breaking an ankle on their way to the hospital when Madison Leigh Fabray-Berry was born).

Brittany Lopez was surprisingly calm when she felt her water break. She didn't feel the contractions, but she read in those baby magazines that they would probably make an appearance and sought to rouse a dead-to-the-world Santana. The Latina woke with a start (mumbling something about Cheerios and squirrels), and after being informed that their baby wanted out sometime in the immediate future, began to panic like a monkey with its balls cut off. Making a grab for everything in sight, Santana maneuvered her way downstairs with the keys to the car in her mouth, arms holding two suitcases, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and Brittany's gigantic stuffed duck (lovingly dubbed Duck) under one arm. She shoved everything inside the Range Rover (global warming can fuck itself, because baby Lopez got the best of everything) and jumped into the front seat. It was then that Santana realized she was about to drive off wearing only a pair of underwear. She ran back into the house, slipped on a trench coat and flip flops, and drove off.

Brittany Lopez, waiting patiently on the couch inside their house, sighed quietly inside as she reached for her phone and dialed Carmen Lopez. Ten minutes later, the sound of tires screeching to a stop outside let Brittany know that Santana was probably getting an earful from Mami Lopez for forgetting her wife when she was having a baby. She was right; the Latina tore into the house frantically, bluetooth attached to her ear and Brittany can hear the combined voices of Grandma and Mama Lopez out for blood (something that sounded suspiciously like 'wooden spoon' was being yelled). Santana ripped the damn thing right off, threw it on the couch, apologizing profusely to her wife and peppering her face with kisses before ushering the woman towards the door. And Brittany smiled, trying to sooth the frantic mama-to-be and told her to call the hospital to let them know they were coming.

Santana Motherfucking Lopez pretty much broke every traffic law in the country getting to the hospital (to this day she would contend that a person was allowed to sweep across three lanes and cut off four semis and an 18-wheeler when their wife was having a fucking baby). They made it there in record time, Brittany was admitted immediately, and the wait began.

Brittany knew having a baby would be hard, no matter how much Mama Pierce and Mami tried to reassure her. The first few months of pregnancy weren't that bad, she'd only a little morning sickness and was able to keep food down. The second trimester was even better, because Santana loved her little baby bump and would kiss and rub it any chance she got. And the sex was awesome. Pregnancy made her so horny that Brittany had practically stopped wearing underwear around the house (her wife appreciated that, but it was so embarrassing when Rachel, Quinn, Kurt, and Mercedes popped over unannounced one day and she'd been expecting Santana at the door). She also made sure never to walk over the cats; she trusted Charity not to look up her dress but Lord Tubbington was a different story, though he mellowed out pretty quickly (in actuality, he tried to peek a couple times until Santana caught him and punted his fat ass into the next week). And despite all the sex they had Santana was always gentle, saying that, first of all, she didn't want to hurt the baby; second of all, she didn't want to risk inducing premature labor and put her wife and baby danger; and third of all, she didn't want the first thing their child saw to be her dick poking it in the head.

It was the last few months of pregnancy that sucked the most, because Brittany's strong dancer's back started hurting so much (the only good thing was that Santana gave great massages) and she broke down crying when her joints started loosening. And speaking of crying, she had cried a lot during the last two months (seriously, a Skittles commercial made her burst into tears) because of the mood swings and Santana ended up filling a large room in their 11-bedroom mansion with nothing but teddy bears, stuffed animals, and other adorable paraphernalia. Quinn never let her live it down. Neither did Kurt. Mercedes and Rachel wisely kept quiet.

Needless to say, Brittany was surprised at how... calm the birth went. Of course, there was the pain (because, hey, having a baby really was hard work, and Santana broke two fingers in her left hand where Brittany squeezed at the joints) and the screaming (Santana) and the crying (also Santana, and she would deny this until the day she died), but it wasn't as bad as people kept telling her it would be (maybe it was thanks to all the yoga and pilates she had taken during the pregnancy). The only hysterical person there was Santana Lopez, who tried to calm down an already calm Brittany, thereby making herself even more hysterical until the doctor threatened to kick her out of the delivery room. Brittany was afraid the woman would go all Lima Heights on their doctor, but, well, Santana knew when to nut up or shut up. She pulled on the scrubs and sat dutifully by Brittany's side, only moving once to peek at how her blonde wife was doing 'down there' and paling significantly when she saw.

Alejandro Josef Pierce Lopez was born after 10 hours of labor. He weighed 7 lbs 12 oz, measured exactly 21 inches, with dark fuzzy hair and big blue eyes. He was named for Santana and Brittany's grandfathers, respectively; both men were loved and missed dearly, having met relatively premature deaths. They had decided to keep the sex a surprise (had Alejandro been a girl her name would have been Angelica Marie Pierce Lopez), and the only people who knew were their OBGYN and Marcus Lopez (who, with Santana and Brittany's consent, tested the baby to see if he or she would inherit Santana's unique traits). But Alejandro was a beautiful baby boy who blinked sleepily up at his Momma as she held him in her arms for the first time, tiredness forgotten and mesmerized by her (and Santana's, but she did most of the work) son. He had her eyes (the doctor said they might change color as he got older, but Brittany had a feeling they would stay blue), but everything else was Santana's, her hair, her dimples, her smile. And it seemed that he recognized his Mami instantly when she held him close, breathing in his newborn scent and murmuring sweet words in his ear, her pinky perpetually clasped in a tiny fist.

Santana Lopez thought she couldn't love her wife any more, and once again she had been proven wrong. The love she felt for Brittany now, after the blonde had given her their first child, was overwhelming. Brittany Lopez felt the same way; she could see it in her eyes, feel it on her skin as Santana leaned over and handed Alejandro Josef Pierce Lopez to her before pressing another reverent kiss to her temple.

End Note: Anyone noticed my Zombieland reference? Love that movie.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Glee nicht zu mir gehören. That's German for Glee is not mine (I think). If that's wrong, well, Glee isn't mine.

Author's Note: The long awaited Charity chapter. Let me tell you a story (before I continue with the story). I loved Pinky and the Brain as a kid. With that said, there will be references. Oh yes. So please read and review, let me know your thoughts, you've been inspiring me to write more. Thanks and enjoy! (My Internet is now full systems go, so hopefully I will update more frequently, cause I ain't done with this plot yet. Faberry one-shots contemplated.)

A Tale of Two Kitties

Charity was a cat. Specifically, Brittany S. Pierce's cat. So while her human was growing up a bit naïve, exceedingly sweet, and all kinds of daffy, Charity Winifred Rainbow Booboo Pierce (because Brittany had named her when she was, well, 16, but Brittany at 16 was very different from everyone else at 16) had been trying to take over the world.

Most of her schemes had not been very successful. Those Looney Toons Brittany used to watch had been eerily similar to her failed attempts at conquering the human race (except for Brittany, of course, because she was Brittany). Alas, Charity's attempts had mostly ended up in a severe reprimanding, and she would retreat to her corner of the house to sulk and nibble on her catnip before plotting again.

When Brittany brought the nuisance that was Lord Tubbington home, Charity the cat had been giddy with excitement because she had _finally_ found a partner in crime (or mindless goon, because the new guy really seemed as dim, if not dimmer, than their owner). Lord Tubbington had been quite skinny back then, and extremely agile. Then things took a turn for the wacky when the boy suddenly found himself obsessed with Velveeta cheese, which the human indulged him in, and gained 10 pounds practically overnight. Her plans for him to shimmy up the gutter drain and ignite the rocket she had aimed at the neighbor's doghouse were dashed. It wasn't too terribly disappointing though, because Lord Tubbington was a good distraction for Brittany while she read the woman's diary and surfed the internet for ways to build a nuclear missile (at least until Brittany caught her reading said diary and cat-proofed the computer. Now neither of them were able to use it).

So when moving vans appeared in front of the house next door, Charity took it upon herself to snoop around and see if the new neighbor had any pets. It was recruitment time, because Tubbington couldn't even fit his fat ass through the cat door anymore (and the crippled, thus harmless, human refused to expand it because Tubby needed to go on a diet. Ha, better chance of some lonely, elderly, psychotic woman with 12 cats inventing pet liposuction first). But then she met Santana Lopez, and Charity knew she had found a perfect match. She could tell because cats were instinctual by nature, and this Santana Lopez radiated almost as much seductive evil and ruthless badassery as she did. Almost.

So Charity kept an eye on the house next door. She followed the Latina when she could, nimbly leaping from garbage can to garbage can to snoop successfully on her (well, Brittany's, but she wasn't back from tour yet) neighbor. Charity had never really thought of the human species as attractive, but this woman was very alluring. If only she were a cat (Santana would be a delicious looking black panther, she was sure).

And so Charity Winifred Rainbow Booboo Pierce (damnit Brittany!) waited for further signs of similar ambitions from Santana Lopez. It surprisingly didn't take long, because when Brittany got back from tour she immediately asked about the new neighbor. Tubbington wouldn't talk to his owner because, well, he got left home with the cripple, who had refused to feed him any cheese, so he was whining and complaining like a little bitch in his little corner of the house. Boy still looked like a pregnant heifer so Charity was sure he'd been able to scavenge some food somewhere. Charity would have spilled but by now Brittany's diary was back in her clutches and she secretly perused those pages like a sexless housewife on a Harlequin romance novel.

Slowly, Charity planned out a magnificent plot to take over the world: winning over Santana Lopez and her coffee empire (and thus having enough money to buy a nuclear warhead so she could threaten to blow up the moon if her demands were not met). She would bring sweet, naïve, and easily manipulated Brittany Pierce together with Santana Lopez, weasel her way into the corporate finances, and then perform a coup de' tat to usurp the US government. It was flawless.

Charity Winifred Rainbow Booboo Pierce did NOT expect Santana Lopez (whom she had thought to be attractively cunning, calculating, and almost demonic) to fall in LOVE with her human. Not like it was hard to fall in love with Brittany, though, the woman was adorably ditzy, Charity would admit. It was shudder-inducing to think of the activities that elicited those loud, raucous moans whenever those two met (because hey, while Santana was a very attractive human, she was a still a _human_. Charity the cat was above consorting with humans). And then Brittany Pierce got pregnant.

Now her plans were really fucked to hell, because Charity was sure Brittany (and by default, the fetus) had made Santana Lopez soft. And she needed her hard (Dear God that came out wrong on every level). Nevertheless, her plans would have to change to accommodate that. This was not good; this pissed her off. Charity then proceeded to steal Lord Tubbington's cheese pot and hide it under the stairs, snickering to herself when her fat, goofy minion scramble faster than she had every seen him move to find it. It will keep her amused. For now.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: If Glee were mine it would be on HBO, where nudity is allowed and Brittana would have been on since Season 1, hot and steamy. But it's not.

Author's Note: HAIL JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH I HAVE INTERNET! So I have had a few technical difficulties regarding my internet connection and indoor wiring for the past two weeks, and I apologize so damn much for the late update. Excuses aside...

I think I might add a few Faberry one-shots in here somewhere. Been trying to incorporate more of the Glee members who I like but are being neglected in the show. Like Mike, Becky, or Coach Beiste. Ah well, we'll see. A bit of Brittana here, and some Faberry. Enjoy. And thanks for all your humbling reviews, love the replies! Keep inspiring me!

Baby Blues (And How Quinn Fabray Became Quinn Fa-GAY)

Brittany Lopez thought squeezing a baby out of her lady parts was hard; raising one was pretty hard too (which was saying something, because passing a bowling ball through your butthole looked like it hurt less). But Alejandro Josef Pierce Lopez was one of the best things to happen to her, next to Santana.

Her son was pretty awesome (she'd known this since the day they found out she was pregnant; now he was 6 months and even more awesome), and he was proving to be the handful Santana probably was when she was younger. Not that Ale was a fussy baby, but he was stubborn when he wanted to be, just like his Mami. Like when she was breastfeeding him (and ow, it really hurt the first couple weeks after he was born) and he'd stay at her boob for a full 45 minutes before he was satisfied. Sometimes she had to switch to the other one or else he'd still be hungry. And that was just one feeding. Mami Lopez said Santana was like that too, and they both didn't know where that appetite came from. It was a conud... canond... confusing.

Ale looked more like Santana every day, but Brittany hoped he would pick up her good habits and not the bad ones. Like taking out the trash sometimes. Or forgetting to feed Lord Tubbington. Or kicking Lord Tubbington for looking up her skirt. Or shoving Lord Tubbington through the cat door when he got stuck there trying to go outside. Brittany was getting the feeling that Santana didn't like her cat very much. If it weren't for the fact that baby Alejandro loved to use Lord Tubbington as a pillow – or, well, a bed, really – and the fat thing let him, her wife probably would have banished him to the basement permanently. Also, Charity had a really obvious crush on her wife. It would be totally cute if Charity hadn't gotten back to sneakily reading her diary.

Today was one of those rare lazy days where Santana was at home and Brittany made sure to hide her phone so the company wouldn't interrupt their family time (family time was super important!). Santana had tired her out the night before (one of those nights when Ale hadn't interrupted their sexytimes and they took full advantage), so she slept in while her dark-haired wife got up to take care of the baby. Brittany found her sitting in her boxers and a tank top in front of the computer, Alejandro balanced in one arm facing the screen as they Skyped to Brittany's parents. Brittany felt her heart melt as soon as she laid eyes on her babies. There really was nothing more adorable and sexy than a hot woman with a baby. Especially when that baby was yours. And hers. Brittany swore she could feel her ovaries quiver before reminding herself that Alejandro was only 6 months; they had plenty of time for more kids.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Quinn Fabray-Berry had not always been a patient woman. Over the years, however, Quinn had mastered the art of patience, because you had to do it and do it quick when you married someone like Rachel Berry. If someone had told her in high school that she'd be marrying the loud-mouthed, freakishly short, annoyingly verbose Glee midget with the diva-tude, she would have punched them in the ovaries (...wait, that actually happened during their 10-year high school reunion when Melanie Hinch scoffed as she and Rachel introduced themselves; Sue had taught her well).

Back then it had come as a shock to her too. Quinn Fabray was born into a bible-toting, NRA registered, misogynistic, WASP-conservative family so Republican they were almost KKK (except for cousin Ernie, who smoked weed in college and became a Democrat, forever shunned from the Fabray line). That was just the males in the Fabray line though, she'd have to admit. Her mother's family was pretty cool, sporadically Democratic, and sometimes atheist; Judy Fabray was the black sheep who went crazy for the Jesus-loving bible-thumper in junior college, only to end up with the reeeeaaalll short end of the stick. Quinn's sister Frannie wasn't like her, cool and wild and hippie once she left the Fabray home, leaving Quinn with an overbearing, controlling father and mother with a brain pickling in moonshine. The blonde still kept in contact with Frannie, though, who was currently roamed South America with her tree-hugging friends and lived in a teepee.

So to say that high school Quinn Fabray was a pressed lemon was an understatement. She had been so deep in denial that Egypt might as well have reconsidered renaming their river the Quinn. That all changed one fine afternoon after Cheerios practice when she was feeling particularly fat and unspectacular (Sue had screamed into the megaphone that this routine was not hard, and if they'd ever had to take out Osama bin Laden with only a dart gun and a pair of g-string underwear, then it would be hard). Santana Lopez, co-captain of the Cheerios, found her sniffling in the locker room alone, which naturally turned into a sniping contest/yelling match. Then something snapped, and somehow, during the middle of her calling Santana a he-she slut and Santana reaching out to beat the crap out of her, they started ripping at each other's clothes. Ten minutes later and Quinn was pressed face first into the lockers, skirt flipped up and underwear down to her knees as Santana Lopez pumped her thick erection balls-deep into her from behind.

In hindsight, angry sex wasn't the most romantic way to lose one's virginity. But that orgasm had been amazing, and at least Santana had known to pull out before she came (they had gotten lucky). When they finished neither of them said anything, just fixed themselves up and stared at each other for a good 5 minutes before Santana walked out of the locker room. They were at it again two days later in the janitor's closet before lunch. Quinn stayed with Finn Hudson, resident football captain, quarterback, oblivious virgin, and all-around idiot, who never caught on to the fact that his girlfriend was getting the fucking of her life almost every day by her co-captain. Not even when Puck had caught Santana going down on her under the bleachers after the final football game of the season (which they had lost miserably). Turned out he was there waiting for a booty call (really, no surprise to anyone), but he knew to keep his mouth shut when Mrs. Kroske, the English teacher's wife, popped up next to him in a short mini skirt and no underwear. There was a tacit agreement made that day, but it didn't keep Puck from making lewd comments whenever no one else was around. Nor did it keep Santana from kicking him in the nuts when he did (which she knew from experience hurt like no motherfucking other).

The unspoken sexual agreements between Santana and Quinn kept up until junior year, when Quinn's period was late one month and she almost took a hunting knife to Santana's balls. The Latina drove to Columbus – they'd get caught otherwise in a small town like Lima – and they almost cleaned out the Walgreens of its pregnancy tests. A gallon of Sunny-D and pee sticks later, Quinn was officially not pregnant. While immensely relieved and, even though they had always used contraception, the two decided to end their sexual arrangements. Besides, Santana had wryly noted that Quinn was totally into the Glee midget (honestly, screaming out the hobbit's name during sex, while disturbing and gross, was so not subtle).

So Quinn Fabray went after Rachel Berry like a lioness after a gazelle. The girl was irritating most of the time to almost everyone in a one mile radius, but for some reason it was endearing to the blonde. For all her loud-mouthed diva-ness, Rachel Berry was talented, confident in her dreams, and had a big heart (barring the one incident where she sent Sunshine Corazon to an abandoned crackhouse, but Quinn promised never to mention that if she ever wanted sex again). The bad news was, Rachel Berry had been into Finn Hudson, and since Quinn had broken up with him right after the pregnancy scare with Santana, he was free game.

The good news came when it turned out that Rachel Berry had only dated the boy for a good three weeks before they broke up, because even his grudgingly talented singing voice couldn't outweigh the fact that he was an oafish, bumbling buffoon. That and she had promised Santana a free dinner at Breadstix if the Latina sabotaged their first date. She delivered.

All Quinn had to do now was make her move.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Glee would only be mine if I was Rupert Murdoch or Ryan Murphy, and there is simply not enough booze in the world for that.

Author's Note: I originally planned for this story to be a one shot, but my brain won't shut down and here we are. So I'm thinking this will be the penultimate chapter. A separate Faberry two-shot spinoff is still being contemplated, but I don't know when it will actually be penned. Lots of things on my mind lately, and I've already started on an prologue for an Action/Fantasy/AU Brittana fic. Just didn't wanna post it until I finish a first chapter for it or finished this fic. So, again, enjoy the second to final chapter and I'll post the epilogue soon. Thanks ya'll!

The Woo-ing of Rachel Berry

It wasn't as easy as Quinn had thought to win over Rachel Berry, considering the fact that she had tormented the girl since freshmen year. First order of business was to threaten the janitor to help her scrub the pornographic pictures of Rachel Berry off the the second floor girls bathroom. Truth be told, the fat bastard should have been scraping that shit off the wall without being blackmailed (it was in his fucking job description and whatnot), but apparently he'd been sipping straight up corn booze from a teapot at school ever since his wife left him for a transvestite stripper named Betty Oops. (Santana, with Puck's help, had gotten her hot little hands on every employee file for the school staff and used them for her Machiavellian schemes).

Nonetheless, the deed was done, and Quinn had to buy Santana _and_ Puck dinner at Breadstix for that and for sabotaging Finn and Rachel's first date (which, she had heard through the grapevine, involved an inordinate amount of honey, hairspray, angry bees, and a pound of butter). Feeding Santana had set her back a bit, but now that they involved Puck it was like watching two forest bears preparing for hibernation. Not only had Santana Lopez eaten two plates of alfredo, two plates of lemon chicken, a slice of lasagna, and practically inhaled a veritable tub of lobster bisque (served in a bowl, really, but she had it refilled 3 times), the Latina had dragged a wheelbarrow to the establishment, proceeded to set it under the table, and promptly dumped every refill of breadsticks they had into it. Apparently this was the not the first time either, earlier the manager just stared at the wheelbarrow with frightened eyes and waved them all to a table. At least Santana had manners while she ate, because Puck straight up asked for a 48 oz salad bowl and had them fill it up with spaghetti and meatballs before gorging. He had it refilled 4 times.

Quinn sat there and watched in simultaneous fascination and horror as she nibbled on her Caesar chicken salad; it was oddly reminiscent of that hot dog eating contest she had seen at Coney Island where the skinny Japanese guy stuffed down 90+ hot dogs in 12 minutes. That shit was like watching livestock give birth, nasty but you just can't look away (Santana's words, not hers).

Grotesque imagery aside, that dinner had set Quinn back around 300 bucks (not including dessert), which wasn't too bad since most of that money came from the cash stash in daddy's liquor cabinet (he drunkenly bought the story about the vigilante raccoon who stole from the rich and gave to the poor).

With the leftover cash she began to go about wooing Rachel Berry, a rather daunting task. Pornographic pictures erased, she went out of her way to be nice to Rachel. No more slushies, sneers, or nicknames (the last bit was especially hard, especially for Santana, but Quinn pulled the almost-pregnant-guilt-card and she caved). Quinn left love notes in Rachel's locker, brought her flowers and candy, talked to her more in Glee club.

Rachel didn't react like she thought. Rachel got really weirded out, threw out the love notes, gave the flowers to Matt to give to his girlfriend, and passed the chocolate to Lauren Zizes. Finn stilled followed the singer around like a lost puppy.

Quinn didn't know what was wrong until Santana showed up with Puckerman and Lauren and told her that Finn told Rachel the whole thing was probably a prank to humiliate her. Date the midget gleek and then dump her for laughs. The next day Finn Hudson came to school wearing a baseball cap, which Santana 'accidentally' knocked askew in the hallway to reveal the middle of his head completely shaved, bald and shiny, and the ring of whatever hair left around his head dyed a bright fluorescent pink. The buffoon wasn't even smart enough to just shave his goddamn head so he didn't have to come to school looking like a constipated gay friar.

Quinn was at her wit's end. She couldn't ask Santana for help, the girl's idea of a date was dinner at Breadstix and a blowjob in the back of her Lexus. Puck either, Lauren had him on a tight leash now that they were dating. They boy couldn't go to the bathroom without asking permission; it was pathetic, really.

And then rumors broke out on Jewfro's blog about Finn and Rachel getting back together, and Quinn Fabray knew she had only one chance to say her piece. She confronted Rachel in the auditorium the next day.

Quinn Fabray told Rachel Berry that she had been in love with her since the day they laid eyes on each other. This tiny, gorgeous little person with so much optimism and confidence and _heart_ irked her immensely from the start because she had resuscitated a different heart, one that had not been truly beating for almost 16 years. From the day Quinn Fabray was born, she had learned that her life was not her own; religion had taught her that homosexuality was a sin, her parents had taught her that imperfections were reprehensible, and her experiences taught her that feelings made you weak. Quinn told Rachel that since they had met, all of it didn't seem to matter anymore. She felt more like herself with Rachel than with anybody else. She felt like God loved her more when she was with Rachel than with anybody else. And with Rachel, Quinn didn't feel like she'd end up a Lima loser like her mother, married to some Joe schmoe who worked at a tire shop, with two kids and burned out before she was thirty. The years of torment, ridicule, and slushie facials were the shameful product of a losing war with those feelings.

And finally, Quinn Fabray looked Rachel Berry dead in the eyes and told her she was so damn sorry, and that if Rachel would let her, she would spend every damn day of her life making it up to her.

Rachel, for her part, didn't say anything. Didn't lunge forward to hug her or kiss her or even smile. She closed her eyes, letting those unshed tears travel down her cheeks, and then opened them to stare straight back into Quinn's own teary eyes. Rachel bit her lip, and nodded yes.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Glee and all its affiliates are not mine.

Author's Note: As you can all tell, I'm getting kind of bored with this story, and thus this last chapter will be quite short. I had first intended for this to be some cracky one-shot type of thing for laughs because a charming friend of mine requested it. Then my brain won't shut up and I just ended up writing a series of unfiltered steam-of-consciousness's that never really connected or ended anywhere. Also, never written anything g!p or Glee before so I gave it my best shot (to be completely honest I've only watched Season 1 and had to Google/Tumblr the rest). Thank you for all the kind words, very encouraging since I really haven't written outside of academic nonfiction and biochem lab reports for about 6 years now. Been quite a ride ya'll, thanks for the responses!

How Brittany Pierce Might Have Saved the World

The Lopez and Pierce families were flying in to LA for Alejandro's second birthday in two weeks. Santana Lopez had been running around like a chicken with its head chopped off because Lila wanted to bring her bloodhounds and Grandma Lopez was apparently bringing enough food to feel a third-world nation. And her wooden spoon. Oh, also, Brittany was pregnant again.

It was right when Santana had finally closed the merger with Seattle's Best that Brittany began to feel extremely ill in the mornings. The smell of blueberry muffins, her favorite breakfast food, had Brittany lunging for the toilet. So Santana took a day off of work and accompanied her wife to the doctor, who called them back in about a week with the blood test results.

It wasn't that Santana didn't want more kids, but it was taking a toll on Brittany. This pregnancy was starting out a lot harsher than when her blonde wife had been pregnant with Alejandro. Morning sickness made her so tired and achy that Brittany had to stay in bed for an extra hour before she managed to get up. And the cravings made it worse. Her senior PA Mike Chang had to compile a map of restaurants in LA, color coded by Zagat ratings, ethnicity, and distance from the Lopez-Pierce home. He was mad at her for days.

Right now Brittany was in a Latin food kind of mood. Santana had cheekily remarked that if the blonde wanted some Latin in her, there was no need to order out; that earned her a scowl and the silent treatment. She still had to go get Brittany the Ultimate Burrito combo, which came up two hours later and had Brittany wretching so hard she was crying.

Oh yeah, this pregnancy kind of sucked for the both of them.

Not that Santana wasn't excited about this baby, but it was kind of the doctor's fault, really. He prescribed the contraceptive pill for Brittany after she stopped breastfeeding Alejandro, but that gave her lots of headaches. So they switched off to a different one, and apparently it was the period in between that Britt got knocked up again.

Alejandro was really excited about the new baby. Well, as excited as an almost-two-year old who kept chanting 'baby, baby, baby' while pointing at Brittany's stomach could. If Ale got the pitch right it almost sounded like that old Justin Bieber song (poor kid was washed up now, the papers said he checked into rehab last week). Her little dude, though, was awesome. His stubbornness aside, Alejandro Josef Pierce Lopez was turning out to be a lot like Brittany (which was a surprise, since physically the only thing that seemed to come from Brittany were his eyes and his cute little ears). Her boy was giggly and happy all the time, except for when he needed to have his diaper changed. He didn't like that. Ale also liked to toddle around the house in nothing but his diaper, but it was summer and Brittany let him. Santana got a kick out of catching her little man unexpectedly and blowing big raspberries on his bare stomach. Her kid was so fucking perfect. The only thing Santana had to worry about was watching her mouth around him, 'cause since he started talking he picked things up really quickly. Like when she complained about that sack of shit Karofsky when he yelled at the Becky Jackson, the sweet mail room girl with Down's Syndrome. Brittany got mad at her when Ale wouldn't stop repeating 'shit' with the biggest, goofiest smile on his face around the neighbors. That was a shit day.

10 years ago, when Santana Lopez was slogging through an entry level job, subsisted on coffee, and hated almost everyone, if some had told her that one day she would be a billionaire with a gorgeous dancer wife and a beautiful son, Santana Lopez would have taken her Logitech keyboard to their face.

Then she met Brittany Pierce. It was strange how the universe worked, to have such a ruthless and devious person fall in love with a woman who was her complete opposite in almost every way, bright and sunny and cheerful. It was as though Brittany had been made just for her.

Though if Brittany Pierce wasn't there to tone down her crazy, Santana Lopez, as capable as she was almost demonically ambitious, might have razed the world to the ground.

Huh, maybe the universe was just looking out for its own ass.


End file.
